ximilialog | [Mostly Open] So we'll press, and press 'til you can't take it anymore!

CHARACTERS: Precursors and you. And Eventually Newton. Hopefully!
LOCATION: A holding room in Ximilia Station.
DATE: Est. two days post-mission, after the kaiju is defeated and the orb is retrieved.
CONTENT: The precursors are revealed — and are finally removed from Newt's mind.
WARNINGS: Possession and the bodily autonomy issues that come with that. More will be added if necessary!

Closed and opened starters will be added as I go, which will be announced on plurk! But if you don't use plurk or would rather keep an eye out by email/tracking, feel free to use the tracking option and mark to receive notifs any new top level comments posted to this log! The log will involve an open starter to visit the precursors where they're cuffed/contained in the room, so stay tuned.

Also no rush once the open starters are posted!

Feel free to focus on the player plot log first and come back to this later.

CLOSED STARTER | THE DOCTOR
DARKLING'S TOP LEVEL | WHILE NEWT WAS SLEEPING...
OPEN STARTER | THE PRECURSORS, REVEALED
CLOSED FINAL CONCLUSION | THE PRECURSORS, REMOVED
OPEN PROMPTS | NEWTON GEISZLER'S RETURN

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Hey, she's totally sexy; nothing wrong with pointing out the appeal!

[Is he serious about that? Teasing? He'll never say. But he's probably both.

Either way, at least Newt seems to be loosening up around the Doctor.]

... That sort of thing is a lot easier to believe when you've got a time machine to visit those friends with. Or... I guess a weird little station that might pull your friends here to visit for a while.

[He looks down, fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve.]

My friends from home are gone now, but I guess they're only a stone's throw away.

Or a few universe's away.

[He looks up at the Doctor.]

Same thing, right?

[ He turns his head downward for a second. Mostly to hide the grin escaping his face. To hide his wildly teenaged-like crush over his ship. He’s over 2000 years old now! Surely, he doesn’t want to appear like a smitten 90-year-old.

But when he glances at Newt looking up at him, looking as small as he ever was, he can feel something pulling at his hearts. Perhaps it’s because deep down he knows that feeling all too well.

His hand reaches over to give Newt’s hair an ever-so-gentle ruffle. ]

That’s the thing about friendships, Newt. They never expire.

[ He brings his hand back down and keeps his eyes on their simulated horizon. ]

You once told me back in Braccia that I was acting too big for my britches. [ Or something to that effect. ] That I was no different from being human. But therein lies the problem…

[ A beat. ]

I don’t think I can ever be as brilliant as you lot.

[Newt is suspiciously slow at batting at the hand in his hair, as if maybe he's a chump who will always love when someone treats him like they care about him. If he's smiling slightly, nobody has to point it out, right? Right.]

Pffft. You're a genius superhero-type time traveler who helps fix worlds, ships, and everything in-between, all while lasting longer than the Duracell Bunny.

I'm pretty sure matching that is a little tough for us humans.

[He turns his expression toward the horizon himself, hands fidgeting in his lap.

There's a hangnail to obsessively pick at until a band-aid's needed, after all.]

Besides, I haven't been feeling all that 'brilliant' these days.

... Maybe more like a crumpled up sock that just missed the hamper.

Edited 2022-06-09 21:17 (UTC)

It’ll pass. The hardest part is the remembering. That subtle, pulsating thing you like to call guilt.

[ This whole pep talk thing? He’s terrible at it. Used to be great at it in his previous incarnations, but now? Sometimes his guilt gets the best of him. Those same pangs of guilt and terrible nightmares...? The last he needs is to be seen as a hero. He’s done far too many wrongs in his past to merit that. Just a lonely little monster travelling inside his blue box, trying to make the universe a little more gentle. ]

People will tell you it isn’t your fault. That you did nothing wrong. But the sinking you feel inside will always outweigh any verbal affirmation.

[ I suppose this is his silly way of saying “I know the feeling.” ]

[His eyes stare past the hands in his lap. And then his gaze trails along to the image of yamarashi, stark against his skin. He remembers a nightmare that he couldn't remember until he'd woken up in that hospital bed... nightmares of his tattoos coming to life, bursting free from his flesh. His mouth works for a moment, and he mumbles:]

"If you're not a monster, why are they in your head?"

[He stops, straightens his back.]

They used to tell me a lot of things. In my sleep.

... I'm not sure when I started believing so much of it. That it was all my fault. That I did everything wrong, and I was better off with them in control. But... they also said I was a detachable tail that would get torn off eventually, and I'd be left behind.

[He runs his hand over the tattoos on his arm.]

People talk around here. They try to say things to undo those feelings... And to be honest, a lot of it — I just don't know. I'm all mixed up. But... [He glances over at the Doctor.] I wasn't left behind.

["Sometimes actions outweigh the sinking feeling," is what he says in return.]

[ The expression on The Doctor’s face slightly twists. That was his way of trying to piece the logic behind, doing everything wrong and being detachable. Such incredibly daft creatures, those Precursors. ]

You’re a messy bunch. Always with your snappy decisions and lack of hindsight.

[ Sort of like how The Doctor has tried to emulate. He’s always been a bit of a rebel in some respects, but not like humans. A rag-tag group who wanted to shoot for the moon and have now reached the outskirts of the universe.

He fiddles with the ring on his left finger. ]

You have good people with you. Keep them close.

What a coincidence; I think timelords are pretty messy, myself.

[He's at ease as he says it, though there's something uncertain in his eyes as he glances over to the Doctor. Like he's trying to read faraway words that even his glasses can't salvage.]

... You better be keeping people close, too.

Yeah, yeah, you're old and want people off your lawn, but still.

[ He doesn’t flinch at the suggestion. All his life, he’s been told not to walk alone.

Easier said than done.

The side of his lip twist into a wry grin, knowing that he is about to lie straight through his teeth. ]

Perish the thought. I’ve got an atlas full of names to phone in.

[Scoff.]

Just because you own a phone book doesn't mean you ever use it like you're supposed to.

[...But he doesn't seem to press the issue anymore.

He sits quietly and enjoys the scenery in uncharacteristic silence.]

[Mostly Open] So we'll press, and press 'til you can't take it anymore!

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